


I really love you

by lunick



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunick/pseuds/lunick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tajima really loves Hanai, and Hanai loves him back. Being able to say it out loud, on the other hand, is something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I really love you

I love you.

I really love you, Hanai.

It's in the moments when Tajima says things like that -- after a game, in a half-asleep state during a sleepover, after they've both climaxed and are laying there, both of their bodies too heavy to move -- when his voice is quiet, and his face is up against Hanai's shoulder and he's talking into his skin, that the right fielder knows he loves him too.

But his mouth and tongue and throat never seem to work right, and he can't say I love you too.

I really love you, Tajima.

This is all too unreal for him. Everything about this seems like something that can't happen in real life, the fact that they have to keep it all a secret, the fact that it's happening to him at all. That someone like Tajima, a boy, a star player, someone who totally oozes confidence and happiness from every pore, could love him.

Maybe he's just scared. The pressure of being captain and having to look responsible all the time and not weak or uncool grates on him, pulls him under and makes him feel like he's drowning on dry land. They shouldn't be doing this; they both know that. They shouldn't be sneaking around and holding hands and going on dates and kissing and having sex and saying things like, I love you.

But when Tajima says I love you, I really love you Hanai, it's like the right fielder is pulled from the ocean where he's almost drowning, just before he really starts to suffocate and lose consciousness, and he can breathe again, and he can feel his weight against the ground again, and he can see straight again. And he's so grateful, and he is so in love with the third baseman, and he wants to be able to say things like that without any shame, without any feeling of embarrassment, but his words always get tripped up and choke him.

And the team sometimes has those stupid conversations about who they all like, about such stupid high school things like that.

And they get to Hanai, and it's all he can do to shrug and not let his face turn bright red.

"There's really no one," he'll mumble, looking at the floor, trying not to look at the distance between his and Tajima's hands on the mats on the floor.

"You're no fun, Hanai," Tajima will tease, playing along, elbowing him in the arm. He'll be smiling, and no one will question it, no one will think there's anything behind that smile because he's always smiling at Hanai and joking with him and hanging off of him because they're friends and they're rivals. They don't know that the clean up hitter's smile, when he smiles like that with his nose crinkled up just a little bit and his eyes shining, is the same smile he has when he tells Hanai he loves him -- that he really loves him.

"What about you then, Tajima?" Sakaeguchi will ask, and Tajima will smile, a big grin that makes Hanai afraid of what he might say.

"I like someone in class 7!"

"Eh?!" Mizutani jerks up, putting all his weight on his hands. "Who? Is it Shinooka?"

"No way." His grin fades to just a smile, and he glances at Hanai and then back to Mizutani. "They're really tall."

The left fielder looks at him, totally lost -- he has no idea who it could be, and Hanai and Abe never play along with his antics, so he drops it, and they move on to the next person, and Tajima shifts his position so he's leaning the back of his head against Hanai's shoulder, making his skin prick up under his shirt and a blush crawl up his neck that he hopes no one notices.

And then later in the evening, when everyone's already asleep and Tajima and Hanai have stayed up even though they know they should be asleep because it's training camp and they're going to be so exhausted tomorrow, they'll be tucked into one mattress, the third baseman's left totally empty as his body nestles into the curve of Hanai's. He'll be breathing softly onto his collarbone, his eyes half closed and shifting into the feeling of the captain's hand brushing lazily up and down his arm.

"Sorry," Hanai will mumble, voice not much louder than a breath.

"What for?"

He leans his head down, pressing his face into the area where Tajima's shoulder meets his neck and breathing in deeply to try and collect himself. He presses a kiss there, softly, and the freckled boy smiles. "Maybe we should've told them."

It's really hard to keep this all a secret, and he just wants to tell them, because they must know anyway, right? They aren't that discreet, and the kisses they pass in the locker room or the blush that covers Hanai's face whenever Tajima touches him are both dead giveaways, even if they try to act like it's nothing. Tajima pulls himself up, bringing up a hand and rubbing his thumb along Hanai's jawline.

"You know we can't."

For once, he's the rational one here.

"But it doesn't matter, right?"

He comes back down, using his lips to trace the same pattern that his thumb was, planting feathery kisses along his jaw.

"Because I really love you, Hanai."

There's a quiet here, the only sounds in the room are Tajima shifting against the sheets as he tucks himself under Hanai's chin again, nuzzling his cheek against his collarbone, and the rest of the team breathing softly or moving slightly in their sleep. And he knows he has to say it, he has to fight through the dryness in his throat and the feeling like he's choking or going to light on fire from the blush radiating off his cheeks because Tajima has been so damn patient with him so far, and he never would've thought that it would have to be the third baseman to be the considerate one in this case.

He huffs out a breath through his nose, resting his chin on the top of his teammate's head, eyes focusing on the wall behind him and then shifting up to the window where soft moonlight is streaming in. His hands grasp at Tajima's shirt, curling up into his palms, and he swallows, trying to relieve the tight feeling in this throat.

"I..." he stumbles already, his voice cracking on the first word, and he closes his eyes. "I... love you, Tajima."

I really love you.


End file.
